


Half of One is Incomplete (Why Don't You Stay)

by Kittyhawke56



Category: The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: Action, Angst with a Happy Ending, Banter, Blood and Injury, Everything Hurts, F/M, Happy Ending, Near Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:48:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27442189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kittyhawke56/pseuds/Kittyhawke56
Summary: News of the bounty on detective Kat Langford has gotten around. She tries not to let it interfere with her life, but sometimes there's not a lot to be done. At least having a sexy vampire to walk her home should help. Right?
Relationships: Female Detective/Mason (The Wayhaven Chronicles)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 40





	Half of One is Incomplete (Why Don't You Stay)

Paperwork. So much damned paperwork. What did it do, breed while I wasn’t looking? For a town as small as Wayhaven, there seemed to be a lot of trouble. Or maybe it’s because it’s such a small town the residents feel the need to report every minor mishap. My in-tray was starting to be less of a tray and more of an in-desk. I could barely see the duct-taped corner now. 

I still needed to get that fixed. 

Groaning, I looked down at the file laid out in the one clear spot on my desk. It was a complaint that hoodlums (really? Who uses that word anymore) were breaking in and destroying local gardens, and what were the police going to do about it? (Nothing, Mrs. McKenna. It’s deer. You didn’t want to ruin your landscaping with a fence, and now the deer are getting in and eating everything.) I let my head thump down onto the offending paperwork, fantasizing for a second about taking the whole lot to the warehouse and letting Felix go ham on it. Summer was bonfire season, right? 

A knock on my office door startled me from my daydream. Tina stood, leaning on the door frame, grinning. 

The nerve! The cheek! I pulled a face at her, stopping short of sticking my tongue out when I caught sight of Douglas packing up at the front desk. I have to be at least a little professional, wouldn’t want to be a bad example. 

Tina pulled a face right back at me, exaggeratedly peering over the stacks of files at me. “You’re going to need a cushion on your chair just to see over Mount Paperwork there.” She made her way across the room, still grinning. “Isn’t it time you head home anyway?”

A glance out the window showed me late afternoon sun streaming down through the tree outside my window, telling me that, yes, it was, in fact, time to go home. If I stopped now, though, by tomorrow morning, my paperwork would probably have spread, like some sort of creeping vine, to cover my floor as well as the desk. It might even take over my whole office, or worse, the entire station. Visions of Verda buried up to his neck in a landslide of paperwork flashed into my mind, and I groaned. 

Tina, chuckling now, peered over my shoulder. “This again?” she poked one brightly colored nail at the file in front of me, “Didn’t she do this last year too?”

I shrugged, rubbing my eyes. They ached from hours of reading, and the words were starting to dance whenever I looked at them. I really did need to stop.

Tina batted my hands from my face, “Don’t, you’ll leave ink prints on your face. Your fingers are filthy.” 

She was right. The tips of my fingers were grey with ink. Frowning, I rubbed them against my palm. It helped, a little. I scrubbed harder.

Tina nudged me with an elbow, “Well, if you need a pick me up, tall, dark, and smoking is waiting outside.” 

My tired brain took several moments to figure out who she was talking about. 

Mason, she was talking about Mason, but why the hell would he be here? Frantically, I fished my phone out of my pocket, checking to see if I’d missed a message from Adam or my mother. 

Nothing from either of them, though Felix had left a long string of messages. Glancing at them, I saw he’d been giving live updates on his progression through a video game I’d lent him. Slipping the phone back into my pocket, I looked up at Tina, who had been unashamedly reading over my shoulder. “How long has Mason been out there?” 

She shrugged, “I don’t know. I happened to see him on my way to talk to you. If you don’t want to go now, though, I can-”

“No, no, I’ll go see what he wants.” Stuffing the papers back into the file, I slammed it shut. Mrs. McKenna and her deer problem were going to have to wait. In my haste, I unbalanced part of the teetering pile of paperwork. It wavered, and Tina and I watched in horror as it slowly, almost comically, overbalanced, sliding gently into a heap on my office floor.

Cursing, I knelt, scrambling to stuff papers back into the appropriate folder. 

Tina, laughing, waved me away, “I’ll pick it up. You get going. He doesn’t seem the type to have the patience to wait around.” 

I stood to give her a brief hug before heading out the door. “Thanks, Tina, you’re a saint.” 

“Don’t saint me yet,” she shouted after me, “You haven’t seen my organizing system!”

“It can’t be worse than mine,” I called back over my shoulder. She made a shooing motion with the hand not currently picking up my poor beleaguered files. Laughing, I headed for the station door, nodding briefly to the volunteer who’d replaced Douglas at the front desk.

I saw Mason’s smoke cloud before I caught sight of him. 

He stood, leaning against the blue-grey bricks of the station wall, eyes closed, head tilted back in every appearance of enjoying the late afternoon sun. He held his leather jacket over one arm, a testament to the warmth of the afternoon. Lounging against the wall like that, he had the air of a cat in a sunbeam. I took advantage of the moment to admire the long lines of him and how his shirt hugged the lean muscles of his torso. 

I also noticed he was standing just this side of the ‘no smoking within 20 feet of entryways’ sign. 

He cracked an eye open to look my way, taking one last deep drag from his cigarette before dropping it into the bin, “You planning to stare all day, sweetheart?”

Hands on my hips, I tried to mock frown at him. “You know those signs are at the 20-foot mark, right? I should cite you for a violation.” 

“Oh no, officer,” his voice was completely flat, though there was a hint of smirk around his lips, “is there any way I could change your mind?” 

“I don’t know,” I sauntered closer, “I can probably think of a couple of things.” I tried to make my voice sultry but couldn’t help the laugh bubbling through. 

Mason rolled his head to the side, watching me through half-lidded eyes. “I’m sure you could.” He managed sultry so much better than I could, damn him. Now more than a hint of a smile, not his usual smirk, but a genuine smile teased at the corner of his lips, and I knew he must have heard the way my heart skipped a beat. 

“Were you waiting for me?” I asked. 

This wasn’t the first time he’d waited around to walk me home, but he always had some reason, some excuse. Was it so wrong to hope that for once he’d say yes?

Something had shifted after we’d had sex. I had anticipated him pulling away, losing interest, but instead, it seemed like he couldn’t be close enough. He’d often gravitated toward me before, but now he wasn’t even trying to be subtle about it. Always right there, often touching. He kept slipping an arm around my waist when we were walking together. 

I was almost afraid to draw attention to it, for fear he’d stop. I wanted to enjoy this for as long as I could. When Mason finally got tired of whatever this was, I wasn’t sure my heart would survive.

He gave me a long look before answering, sarcasm thick in his voice, “No, your station looked like it was going to fall over, so I thought I’d prop it up. What do you think?” There were occasions when his accent came through thicker, especially when he was teasing, and I enjoyed the soft lilt it gave him. “Did you walk?”

Glancing up at the bright blue of the sky, I mimicked him, “What do you think?”

He gave a “hmph” of amusement and pushed himself away from the wall. Strolling to me, he winged an elbow, “I’ll walk you home.”

I hesitated for a second, surprised, “I don’t know,” covering my hesitation with teasing, I slipped my arm through his, “I was told not to go into the woods with strange, handsome men.” 

“Don’t worry. I’ll keep you safe.” While his words still held the same teasing note from before, something about the way Mason said it made it sound more like a promise.

I glanced up at him, but he was watching the path ahead intently, mouth set in a thin line, as though he had given away too much with the statement. A niggling worm of doubt crept into my mind. Had my initial thought been correct? Was this just a part of his patrol? 

Biting my lip, I stared ahead before quietly asking, “Did you guys decide it’s not safe for me to be out on my own?” 

For several long moments, the only thing to break the silence was our footsteps, changing from the sharp clop-clop of concrete to a more muted sound as we reached the path leading into the woods. The sharp tang of pine wafted into my nose, replacing the smells of hot pavement and exhaust. Beside me, Mason relaxed slightly, tension easing out of him as we left behind the hum of the town. 

The path curved through the trees, taking us around a bend and out of sight of the street before he finally answered me. “We talked about it, yeah.” 

I stared ahead, fighting to keep my disappointment at bay. Did it matter if this was part of his patrol? We were enjoying ourselves, weren’t we? (Yeah, keep telling yourself that, Kat, see how it goes for you.)

Mason halted, nearly pulling me from my feet with his sudden stop. When I looked back at him, he was staring at me, brow creased in a frown. He studied my face for a couple of seconds before speaking again. “I’m not under orders, Kat.” 

“What?”

“I’m not under orders. No one told me to be here.”

There was something unreadable in those storm grey eyes of his, something almost fierce. I held his gaze for a long while, unsure what else to do, what to say—something dangerously, dangerously close to hope unfurled in my chest. Swallowing, I reached up to tuck a strand of dark hair out of his face, letting my fingers trail across his cheek. 

The moment was too much, suddenly, too intimate, too heavy. If I didn’t break it, he would leave, or I would say something stupid, and this whole delicate balance of non-relationship we had going on would come crumbling down around us. I was _not_ ready for that to happen. 

So I gave him the cheekiest grin I could muster, “Careful, go around saying things like that, and people will think you actually like me.” 

Letting go of his arm, I turned and sashayed down the path. His eyes felt like they were boring holes into my back, and I almost tripped, trying to add an extra sway to my hips. I heard him growl behind me; that was my only warning before he caught up, swinging me gracefully around, hands around my waist. 

He pulled me in, so my hips were flush with his, and I couldn’t help the way my pulse ratcheted up as he leaned in to put his forehead against mine. “Of course I like you, Imp. You think I walk just anyone home?”

“I bet you say that to all the detectives.” 

My response drew a chuckle from him, and his eyes seemed to soften a touch as they fell to my mouth, to my lips curving to match his smirk. 

The sigh of wind through trees, the birdsong, the rustling of some small animal in the undergrowth, it all faded into the background as I let my hands settle on his shoulders. 

Pushing up onto my toes, I caught his mouth with mine. 

Mason’s lips were soft and warm, a contradiction to the restrained ferocity in the kiss. It was like molten lava through my veins, its warmth spreading to my toes, my fingers, pooling in my core. One of his hands skimmed up my back to curl around the nape of my neck. The other, predictably, slid down over my hip to rest on my ass. He tugged me even closer. I think his jacket fell off his arm at some point, but I was past caring about anything other than the feel of his body against mine. 

It would be so easy right now to drag him off the trail, pin him against a tree, and have my way with him. Just loosen up his pants a bit; it wouldn’t take long. I held the image in my mind, playing it out. Maybe he could pin _me_ against a tree and…

“Kat,” my name broke through the fantasy, helped along by the fact Mason wasn’t kissing me anymore. He was staring down at me, his expression torn between exasperation and amusement, and I realized that wasn’t the first time he’d called me. 

Head still full of visions of hauling him off into the bushes like some hormone-crazed teen; it took me a moment to give some form of half intelligible answer.

”What?” Master of eloquence, that’s me.

Amusement won out, and he grumbled. “I said, you’re standing on my coat.” 

With a yelp, I yanked myself away from him. Sure enough, there was a lovely, dusty footprint right in the middle of his black leather jacket. I bent to retrieve it with a groan, narrowly missing smacking heads with him on the way down.

Mason got to it first, picking it up and looking over the leather with a critical eye. Shaking it sent a shower of pine needles drifting down, and his frown deepened. I winced when he ran a finger along a deep crease caused by my heel. Dread creping into my stomach, replacing the airy butterflies of a moment ago. That jacket probably cost more than my entire wardrobe. 

Shoving my hands into my pockets, I mumbled, “I’m sorry.” 

He glanced at me sharply, taking in my downcast eyes and hunched shoulders with an arched brow. Letting out a long breath, he shook his head, “It’s seen worse.” He shook it lightly again, causing another small flurry of needles to shower out, “I’m not wearing it again until all _this_ is out, though.” Some of the tension eased out of me, and Mason gave me another hard to read look, “It’s just a jacket, sweetheart.” 

I forced myself to relax. He wasn’t upset, so why should I be? Thoughts of Bobby sneered at me from my memory. And I angrily shoved them away. I thought I’d gotten over all the nervous habits he’d ingrained in me. 

Pasting on a grin that probably didn’t fool the ridiculously good-at-reading-people vampire, I turned, flouncing down the path. “We should get to my place before I damage any more of your clothing.”

“Oh?” He’d come right up behind me, and his voice from two inches behind my ear startled me enough that I jumped, “What did you have planned?” 

I glanced at him as he fell into step beside me. “Well,” I drawled, “Your pants might not make it much past the door.”

He looked down at the sturdy denim of his black jeans and quirked an eyebrow, “If you manage to _literally_ rip these off of me, I’ll be impressed.” A lazy smile curved his lips when I laughed, little crinkles forming at the corner of his eyes. Late afternoon sunlight filtered softly through the trees overhead, casting a greeny-gold light over everything. It caught in Mason’s hair, gilding strands as he moved. Gods, he was beautiful.

I nearly tripped over the uneven ground watching him instead of the path. 

Fortunately, one of the perks of hanging out with vampires is their lightning-fast reflexes. Mason steadied me before catastrophe could happen. Heat bloomed in my cheeks as he gave me a sidelong glance. Fortunately for whatever dignity I had left, he didn’t say anything, just looped an arm around my waist, tucking me into his side. I’m sure my face was tomato red by this point, and my heart skipped a beat, but I managed to put my own arm around his waist too. 

Peace blanketed us as we walked through the tunnel of trees. 

It always surprised me how comfortable the quiet was with Mason. 

I was, unfortunately, one of those people who never quite managed to shut up. Thoughts buzzed through my head, loud as a mosquito swarm and twice as annoying, and they had the regrettable tendency to fly right out of my mouth without warning. His presence wasn’t some kind of magic that calmed the neverending barrage, but the fact that he didn’t seem to mind my jabbering made it easier, more comfortable to be around him. 

The peace was broken abruptly by a buzzing from my pocket. There were several in quick succession, a pause, and then several more. Muttering curses under my breath, I let go of Mason to fish the dumb thing out of my pocket. 

At the same time, Mason grumbled, “Would you silence that thing?” 

I finally managed to pull my phone out, only for another text to flash across the screen. It was Felix, of course. How he could manage to interrupt a quiet moment with Mason when I knew he was at least four miles away, I had no idea. He must have had some sort of extra sense. I rolled my eyes at the screen. 

Mason turned to face me, walking backward with less trouble than I’d had walking forward, the showoff, and quirked a brow at me in question. 

“It’s Felix,” I answered him, opening my messaging app to shoot a text back.

_Mason’s walking me home, shove off._

Felix’s response was a nearly incomprehensible string of emojis, eggplants featuring heavily. Choking on a laugh, I looked up at Mason, phone halfway extended, intending to show him the text. 

There were three people behind him. They hadn’t been there a moment ago, and something told me they weren’t out to enjoy the nice day. Mason’s eyes went wide, focused on something behind me. 

That was the only warning I got before something hit me in the back of my knees. 

I went down like a rock, phone flying from my hand to land in the grass beside the path. Rolling, I managed to avoid a second hit from one of the two behind me. Instinctively I reached for my Volt, or my gun, or hell, my pepper spray. Those last two were safely tucked into a drawer back at work, the first… 

Damn, it was in my car. Probably still rattling around where it had fallen out of my pocket yesterday.

Shit.

This wasn’t going to go well.

* * *

Felix grinned at his phone, half hoping Kat would snap back at him with some witty retort. Though, he supposed, she was probably a bit busy, what with Mason to distract her. At least, he hoped she was. 

A warm swell of pleasure rose in his chest. It was good to see Mason so happy, though it would take someone who knew the recalcitrant vampire well to be able to pick up on it. And though he had had little to do with their affection for each other, Felix couldn’t help but be happy for them. 

With a contented sigh, he set the phone down and flung himself back onto his pillows, picking up the handheld game (she had called it a switch?) Kat had lent him. She’d been very, very firm about how fragile the controllers were, and he’d managed thus far not to break the buttons, though it had been a close thing. Human-made things were just not quite sturdy enough for an excited vampire, and he tended to lose himself when he played.

The phone rang shrilly right beside his head, and he nearly crushed one of the controllers in surprise.

Dropping the Switch on his chest, Felix reached for his phone, frowning. It was unusual for anyone to call him. If someone needed the team, they called Rebecca or Adam, not him. His frown deepened when he saw Kat’s picture on the screen. 

If she was walking home with Mason, why call him? Was it a butt dial? Curious, he swiped the answer button and put the phone to his ear.

Nothing for a moment, then a few soft thumping sounds, and a muffled grunt. Felix brows shot up, and he nearly hung up right then. Happy as he was for them, there were some things he did _not_ want to hear. Something stayed his hand, though. There was something off about the sounds, something he couldn’t put a finger to. He had the suspicion that he was not hearing Kat and Mason get frisky. 

The next sound had him throwing himself off his bed. Heedless of Kat’s Switch flying across the room, he darted for the door. 

One thought in his mind, he _had_ to find Adam.

That last sound had been a scream.

* * *

In a desperate bid to regain my feet, I flung myself toward the edge of the path and the old pine trees growing there. I couldn’t feel my left leg at all, and I instinctively knew I would need support to stand. 

I didn’t move fast enough. Only one of the trappers behind me had one of those cattle prod looking things, but he managed to give me a glancing blow as I scrambled out of the way. It hurt like hell, little licks of fire radiating out from where it grazed my back. I think I might have cried out, but my senses were so overwhelmed with pain I couldn’t tell. 

I caught a glimpse of Mason as I hauled myself up against a tree. He must have been doing alright because I briefly saw someone on the ground before I had to turn my attention back to my attackers. 

The one with the zapping rod was tall and lean, younger than his companion, and if I had met him on the street, I would have thought him handsome. That should be illegal. The bad guys aren’t supposed to be pretty. The older of the two was stocky. He was built along the same lines as Adam, though with less height.

I smiled disarmingly at them, trying not to let them see that I couldn’t stand without support. “Come on, boy’s, don’t you have better things to be doing than ruining a perfectly lovely afternoon?”

The stocky one sneered at me, and the taller one gestured toward Mason. “Go on. I’ve got her.” The stocky man turned to help his remaining two companions with Mason, and the younger one turned back toward me with a nasty smile. (Did I say he was handsome? I take it back. No one looks good with that kind of smile.) “Now, sweetheart-” (No! You don’t get to call me that, you bastard) “-come with us quietly, and you won’t have to get hurt.” He paced closer as he spoke, and I had to struggle not to shrink into the tree. “Put up a fight, and, well, I only need you breathing to collect the bounty.” 

With more bravado than I would have thought I could muster, I nodded in Mason’s direction, “You think he’s just going to give up?” The bastard’s nasty little smile grew, and a cold feeling of dread settled into my stomach. They had something planned. 

We weren’t going to make it out of this.

Groping behind the tree, I found a loose branch. _Please_ , I thought, _please don’t be rotten_. Grabbing it, I charged at the trapper in front of me, thanking every god I could think of that Adam had humored my request to learn sword fighting. I wouldn’t be able to manage the proper footwork, but it might give me an edge, and at this point, I’d take anything. 

I managed to surprise the man with my limping charge, and the branch held when I blocked his swing of the knockoff volt. Stumbling over the uneven ground and my numb leg, I circled him, trying to position myself where the rest of the group wasn’t behind me. 

He lunged again, and I managed to block awkwardly. That stupid rod was too close to me, though, and the hair on my arm stood to attention where it hovered. Gritting my teeth, I tried to kick him. 

My numb leg flailed out, and he easily avoided my clumsy attack. 

There was a pained sound from the other group. I couldn’t tell if it had been Mason or not. 

No, I couldn’t worry about him, not with this trapper still standing here. I wouldn’t try to move again, let him come to me. At least if I could stand my ground, I probably wouldn’t fall on my ass. That would just be embarrassing.

The evil smile still in place, my trapper advanced on me again. Not attacking, but herding? I had to give ground. 

I tried to get a plan formulated. Maybe, if I could get off the path and into the trees? I knew this area better than he did. I might be able to get away. But would Mason run if I was no longer there? I still couldn’t risk looking to see how he faired. 

I heard one of the other trappers shout, “Now!” and then came a sound I will never forget, no matter how long I live.

Mason screamed.

It echoed through the woods, through my head. The world froze around us. The sound so full of pain, I thought my heart would break. 

* * *

Felix barreled into Adam’s office, grim-faced and shaking. He thrust his phone at Adam, taking no notice of Nate or the surprised looks they were giving him. “They’re in trouble. We have to go! now!” 

Adam frowned, taking Felix’s phone and hitting the speaker button before setting it on his desk. Muffled sounds of combat came from the speaker, along with indecipherable conversation. Though they couldn’t make out the words, Kat’s voice was instantly recognizable. 

Nate had been leaning on the desk, looking over paperwork when Felix had burst in. He straightened, concern creasing his brow. “What do you mean they’re in trouble?”

Felix ran a trembling hand over his face, “Kat. Kat and Mason. She’d just texted me that he was walking her home. And then…” he gestured toward the phone on Adam’s desk. 

Nate relaxed slightly, “If Mason is with her, they should be all right until we get there.”

Adam glanced up at him sharply, lips thinning. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, thumbing through his contact list to find Agent Langford. She picked up on the second ring. Nate skirted the desk to join Felix, putting a comforting hand on the younger vampire’s shoulder, steering him toward the door.

Adam stood to follow, speaking softly into the phone, “Agent Langford, We have a situation.”

Felix turned back to grab his phone before they left, and as he scooped his phone off of the desk, a sound pierced the room, freezing the three vampires in their places. 

A scream. The voice was achingly familiar, though none of them had ever heard it filled with such agony. 

The three locked eyes, Nate blanched, Adam went paper white, phone crunching under his sudden white-knuckled grip. The bottom dropped out of Felix’s stomach when he recognized who was screaming. 

“Was that…” Nate whispered through numb lips.

“Mason.”

Adam yanked his crumpled phone away from his ear, “Go.”

* * *

Silence rushed in, crushing and oppressive when Mason stopped screaming. Everything hung, frozen. I could see him, on his knees, back bent, taught as a bowstring. He was shaking hard enough that I could see the tremors from where I stood 15 feet away. 

At some point, while I had been distracted by the trapper attacking me, Mason had managed to take down a second trapper. Only one of the remaining two had a zapping rod that I could see. 

I couldn’t tell if either of the men on the ground was alive. One lay at an unnatural angle against a tree, as though he’d perhaps been thrown there—the other lay in a crumpled heap in the middle of the path. 

I didn’t feel sorry for either of them, not when I caught sight of something small and round, glinting dully at the junction of Mason’s neck and shoulder. Not with that scream still echoing in my head and the forest around us. 

Mason pitched forward suddenly, catching himself with his hands. My heart nearly stopped. I was sure he was about to collapse completely. 

As though someone had pushed play, the world rushed back into focus as Mason surged upward, a zapping rod in his hand. The stocky, shorter trapper who had attacked me first took several hasty steps away from Mason, leaving his armed companion to face the vampire alone. 

Slow, Mason was moving too slowly. Whatever that device on his shoulder was, it seemed to be slowing him down, and I watched, heart in my mouth, as he swung and missed the trapper in front of him.

I paid for my moment of distraction. The trapper attacking me took my moment of inattentiveness and jammed his rod into my ribs. I shrieked. It was as if lines of fire snaked across my body, like a million little insects stinging me. I wouldn’t have been surprised to find my hair smoking. 

Something was wrong with the zapping rod, though. The pain, terrible as it was, only lasted for a couple of seconds before stopping abruptly, leaving nothing but little aftershocks running through my body. I found myself on my knees, with no memory of falling. I had to look up to see the trapper shaking his rod in confused exasperation. 

He shook it again, then stuck it right against my solar plexus. I tried to move out of the way, but my limbs were too sluggish to respond in time. With a sneer, the trapper hit the trigger. 

Maybe it was just because I had been whacking it with a stick, or perhaps it was a fault in the design. When he pulled the trigger, there was no jolt of magically boosted electricity this time. Instead, there was a loud, high pitched hum, and the rod exploded. 

It must have blown us both back because when I came to my senses, I was lying on the path a couple of feet from where I had been kneeling. I stared up at the canopy of trees, gasping for breath. Dimly I could hear someone cursing. There was an odd roaring in my ears that I couldn’t hear over clearly.

I couldn’t catch my breath.

Warmth was spreading across my chest, warmth and wetness. I tried to roll onto my side, To move away from whatever attack would surely be coming next. It hurt. It hurt so bad. If I had the breath, I would have screamed. Raising my head, I tried to see what was going on.

A large chunk of the rod was sticking out of my ribs, right beneath my breast.

I stared at it, not comprehending what it meant.

I still couldn’t breathe.

Strength left the muscles in my neck, and my head bounced against the ground before lolling to the side. Still gasping like a fish, I caught sight of Mason. Blood ran from his nose, and his shirt was torn from neck to rib on one side that gash also bleeding profusely. 

Was he not healing? 

He stared at me, eyes wide in horror, freckles standing out sharply against ashen skin. He was saying something, but the roaring in my ears covered everything. The trapper he was fighting lunged to take advantage of Mason’s distraction. 

From my vantage point in the dirt, I saw Mason raise his rod to block. Movement out of the corner of my eye, and I saw the stocky trapper dive off to the side of the path. That was the only warning I had to brace myself. 

As if in slow motion, I watched the rods connect. 

There must have been a sound. But it was too big, too much to be described as such. I felt it rather than heard it. The force hit me like a sledgehammer. The only reason I wasn’t bowled head-over-heels was that I was already lying down. 

It seemed to go on forever, echoing, and reechoing around us. My head reeled, white spots dancing in my vision, and I couldn’t tell if they were from the explosion, or if something had hit me, or if it was blood loss. I managed to roll to my side as the echoes died away, looking for the trappers, Mason, anything to tell me what had happened. 

There was no sign of the trapper who had been attacking me. If any of the ones fighting Mason had been alive, they were not now. The area around where the Mason had been? It was carnage. 

If I had been thinking straight, I probably would have thrown up. (people, those piles had been people. No. Stop. Don’t think about it.)

It took me several long, heartstopping seconds to find Mason. He’d been thrown against a fallen log, and he lay there, sprawled against it, unmoving. He was covered in blood from a myriad of tiny cuts that spread across his torso and face, his shirt hanging in rags off of him. He moved, and my heart lurched. He was alive, but for how long?

My fault.

This was my fault. 

I had to get to Mason, to help, to do something, anything. I managed to roll the rest of the way onto my side and get an arm under me, heaving myself up onto my hands and knees. My entire body was shaking with pain and fatigue. I coughed, spitting blood into the dirt. 

That wasn’t good. 

Movement caught my eye, and I saw the stocky trapper emerge from the woods. He was bleeding in several places, and he favored his right leg as he stalked toward Mason. I went cold as I watched him fumble something out of his pocket. My vision blurred; I couldn’t see what he held. 

I tried to rise to my feet, but my legs wouldn’t hold, and I collapsed back to my knees. 

The man stopped a couple of yards from Mason, pointing something sleek and silver at Mason’s head. He was growling something, but I couldn’t make it out over the buzzing in my ears. 

No!

Mason’s head lolled, his throat working as he swallowed, his eyes finding mine. Blood bubbled at the corner of his lips, and I thought I saw tears making clean tracks through the mask of gore on his face. 

Nonono!

Time, I needed time. 

Out of time, weaponless, it didn’t matter. I was not going to sit here and watch Mason die. A brilliant, stupid, suicidal thought struck me, and I looked down at the metal rod still jutting from my chest. 

Adam’s stern voice floated through my head, leaving dire warnings of bleeding out.

It didn’t matter. If he killed Mason, I was dead anyway. 

New strength surged through me, and I yanked out the length of rod. It was longer than I had initially realized, and it came free with a gush of blood. The pain was a long way off, though, hazy, as though I were dreaming of it. Holding the rod like a lance, I leaped to my feet and charged at the trapper. 

I would not be the reason for Mason’s death.

I hit him at a dead run, 150ish pounds of woman behind a piece of jagged steel the diameter of my pinky. 

The stocky man didn’t stand a chance. 

I rode him down, blindly stabbing again, and again, and again. Numb, nerveless fingers slipped off the rod, slick with blood, and whatever reserves of strength I’d used fled. I felt myself collapsing. Blackness rising to meet me. 

I was falling, falling, fall-

* * *

Pain, everything was pain. Mason was barely aware of the stocky trapper emerging from the woods. His entire focus was on where Kat knelt, hunched over a length of metal protruding from her chest, blood leaking from the wound. 

He couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. 

She was dying by inches, and he could do _nothing_. 

His eyes stung and vision blurred as she raised her head, meeting his gaze. Her attention wavered between him and the trapper limping toward him. He tried to move, to get to her, but his body would not respond. 

He couldn’t find the breath to call out to her, no matter how he gasped, swallowing mouthfuls of blood. 

That last trapper was standing over him now, muttering something about the girl being more trouble than she was worth. 

_No,_ Mason thought blearily, eyes still locked on Kat. _She is worth more than your fucking bounty. Worth more than anything._

She was watching the trapper, eyes wide, panic overcoming the pain lining her face. Mason wanted to reach out to her. To hold her, to soothe the hurt, just to touch her, it wouldn’t matter if he could only _get_ to her. 

From one moment to the next, Kat’s face hardened. Mason watched in mounting horror as she pushed herself to her feet, yanking the metal rod out of her chest in a spray of blood. 

Face set in a grim mask of determination; she threw herself at the man standing over Mason. 

It happened too fast for Mason’s woozy thoughts to follow, and he lost track of the world for a moment, drifting in a haze of pain. He came back to himself with a jerk, the pain taking a backseat to his fear for Kat.

He didn’t hear her.

He managed to lunge forward, toppling over when his legs wouldn’t support him. Every movement sent shards of pain radiating from the thing on his shoulder, but he couldn’t stop. Not when she needed him.

He could see her now, where she lay crumpled beside the body of the trapper she’d tackled. She sprawled in a pool of blood, limbs askew, unmoving. 

Too much, there was too much blood. Mason tried to stand, but his legs wouldn’t respond. Agony coursed through him again, making his muscles spasm uncontrollably.

Breathing, she wasn’t breathing.

He couldn’t hear her heartbeat.

He clawed his way across the forest detritus, giving up on trying to stand. He had to get to her. If she was gone…

No. No, he couldn’t think that. She couldn’t be dead. She couldn’t. 

Tears stung his eyes, and he choked on a mouthful of blood when he tried to call out to her, to tell her… 

To tell her.

The coughing sent him into another bout of spams, and he curled into himself, riding out the pain. He wasn’t healing the way he should have been. It might have been from the magical backlash of the zapping rods exploding or the device attached to his shoulder. He didn’t know, and right then, he didn’t care. 

Footsteps sounded on the path, pounding into hearing range, and Mason’s heart sank. If it was more bounty hunters… 

He couldn’t stop them, couldn’t save her.

There was suddenly a familiar presence by his shoulder, and he dimly heard Felix give a fervent, “Oh, Shit.” 

“Take her. The healers are on their way. Get her to them.” Adam’s voice came from right beside him, and Mason relaxed slightly, pain and fatigue and fear dragging him down, down, down.

* * *

Sharp pain in his shoulder brought him back to his senses, followed almost instantly by a wave of relief so profound it almost made him pass out again. Hands caught his shoulders, and he recognized Adam as the one who caught him. The team leader must have removed the device. 

He sat up, taking Adam’s offered hand and rising to his feet. Mason had to lean on the other vampire to stay standing, but at least he was up. 

“Where,” Mason started, then nearly doubled over as he coughed up a mouthful of blood.

Adam grabbed his shoulders, steadying him until the coughing subsided. “Felix took Kat, Nate went tracking someone...”

A sound off the path interrupted Adam, and both vampire’s heads swung toward the noise. 

Nate emerged from the bushes, hauling along a struggling man. Mason tensed, recognizing the man as the trapper who had cornered Kat. The one who’s weapon had exploded.

The one who'd hurt Kat.

Mason lunged, no thoughts save ripping the man limb from limb. Only the fact that he wasn’t healing as fast as he should have let Adam catch him before he reached the man. He fought against Adam’s restraining arms. 

“Let me go. I’m going to kill- Let. Me. Go!”

“Mason, stop.” Adam’s voice was commanding, but Mason only redoubled his efforts. “Mason, stop! We need him alive!”

“I don’t care!” Mason’s voice trembled as he shouted, “He’s… he killed her.” He sagged against Adam’s restraining arm, whispering, “I-I can’t…”

Adam gripped Mason’s shoulder, forcing him to look up to meet Adam’s eyes. “She’s not dead, Mason.”

“She is, Adam.” Mason’s voice was rough with unshed tears, “I heard her heart stop.”

Nate and Adam exchanged glances. Nate’s usually gentle deminer had drained away, leaving the tall, lanky vampire looking dangerous, deadly. His grip on the struggling trapper tightened, and the man paled, eyes rolling to show white. 

Adam knelt, gently lowering Mason to the ground. “She’s not dead, Mason.” Adam’s voice was soft, “Felix has her. He’s meeting the healers. She’s going to be alright.” Voice hardening, he looked up at Nate, “If she’s not, once they’ve gotten everything out of him, I will personally let you into the interrogation room and turn off the cameras.”

“If Kat doesn’t make it,” there was something dark in Nate’s voice that brought Mason’s head up in surprise, “If she dies? I might join you.”

* * *

It didn’t take long for the Agency to arrive. Mason sat on the path, too tired to do more than listen to Nate explain how the rest of the team had found out Mason and Kat were in trouble, while Adam rifled through the grass, looking for Kat’s phone. He found it in a halfway flattened bush beside the path. Miraculously, it had survived. The screen wasn’t even cracked. 

_That should make her happy,_ Mason thought blearily, _as long as she was_...

 _If she was_...

“We’re lucky Felix has a penchant for serial texting,” Adam stated dryly, drawing a reluctant chuckle from Nate and yanking Mason’s thoughts out of the desperate spiral they had been swirling in.

 _Lucky. Lucky? Why hadn’t they been faster? Why hadn’t he…_ Mason closed his eyes, trying to block out his thoughts.

Time passed in a haze of fatigue and pain. Nate and Adam kept on a steady stream of conversation. Mason wasn’t even trying to follow, simply letting the familiar voices wash over him. He only became aware of the arrival of the Agency medics when they bundled him away. 

He lost more time on the way to the facility.

Everything still hurt, but Mason had recovered enough to manage to walk into the facility independently. They ushered him to a guest room and handed him a pair of sweatpants and a tee-shirt. They left him standing, wobbling on his feet, holding the clothes. He hadn’t realized how much of a mess his clothing was until just then. 

His shirt was utterly ruined. It hung off of him in bloody, tattered strips. The sturdy jeans Kat had teased about ripping off him had faired better, but they were also caked with dirt and blood. 

He had barely finished pulling the soft sweatpants onto his abused body when someone entered the room. Mason didn’t recognize the doctor, but the slight, pink-haired nurse he knew. She had been the one caring for him after they rescued Sanja.

Obviously, she recognized him as well because she was already looking at him with narrowed eyes. Mason met her gaze, tightening his jaw in a mulish expression of his own.

The doctor had him sit on the bed and checked him over, testing reflexes and other things Mason was too tired to keep track of. He finally stepped back, giving the stonefaced vampire a reassuring smile. 

“You should be fine after you get some sleep, probably more than you’re used to. But there are no lasting effects that I can see.” He turned to open a cooler on the trolly the pink-haired nurse had wheeled in, retrieving a blood bag and handing it over. “Eat that and get some rest.” With that, the doctor turned and left, leaving Mason and the nurse facing each other.

She pursed her lips, “Special Agent Mason, you need-”

“Where is detective Langford?” 

“Special Agent Mason,” she replied, unfazed, “You need to rest.”

Mason stood, towering over the diminutive woman. “Where. Is. She.”

She looked up at him, hands on hips, unimpressed. Her expression softened somewhat as she took in the tightness of his face and the way he swayed slightly while standing. “I don’t know,” She relented, “You need to talk to Elidor. He’s the one in charge of her care.”

The nurse had to dart forward to catch Mason when his knees gave out. “She’s alive,” he breathed, hardly daring to believe, “She’s alive.”

“Yes,” the nurse said, primly, “Now will you get some sleep, Special Agent?” She sounded doubtful and appeared unsurprised when Mason shook his head.

“I need to see her.”

Giving him another pensive look, the nurse sighed. “All right, I’ll take you to Elidor. He can decide if you can see her.”

She escorted him out into the warren of grey cement, leading him toward the infirmary. They stopped by a door identical to every other door in this wing, save for the tall fey man standing in front of it.

Elidor’s brows contracted in a frown as he caught sight of Mason. Lips pursed, he gave the vampire a stern look. “You are supposed to be sleeping.” Looking past Mason to the pink-haired nurse, he said, “He needs to be sleeping.”

With raised eyebrows, she said dryly, “I thought sitting on him might do him more harm than good.”

Taking a faltering step toward the fey man, Mason let his desperation into his voice, “I can’t. Please, where is detective Langford?” 

Elidor watched him sway in place for a moment, then his face softened, and he stood aside, gesturing toward the door he’d just left. “She’s in here.” 

Before Mason could enter, Elidor put a restraining hand on his shoulder. “She’ll live, but she’s in bad shape.” Mason nodded, not looking at the taller man. Elidor let his hand fall from the vampire’s shoulder. “Go on then.”

The room was dimly lit, darker than the hall outside, but more than bright enough for Mason to see Kat laying on the bed. She looked lost, surrounded by machines, and so, so pale. The smell of antiseptic was strong, but it didn’t entirely cover the scent of blood, the smell of injury. 

For a moment, Mason thought his knees would buckle under the combined weight of relief and worry. Relief that she was alive and worry because she still might not stay that way. He flinched when Elidor spoke from behind him, not realizing he had followed him into the room.

“We have done what we can. She was in,” he paused, unsure how to word the rest of the statement, “bad shape when we got her.” 

“She should be dead.” Mason’s voice was flat, utterly devoid of emotion. Memories of Kat lying still and silent kept invading his mind every time he closed his eyes. Even looking at her now, he could barely believe she was alive. 

Elidor gave him a sharp glance, “She is very, very lucky. She had a punctured lung and lost a lot of blood, but nothing was irreversibly damaged.” He moved around the bed, clearing things away from one side. 

Mason moved to Kat’s bedside, focus entirely on the sleeping woman, giving no heed to what the other man was doing. Her hair spread around her like a halo. There were a couple of curls trailing across her face, and he resisted reaching out to touch her, afraid of hurting her.

Giving Mason a long, thoughtful look, Elidor took in the way the vampire swayed on his feet and the grey cast to his tanned skin. “You know,” he said slowly, “We could use someone in here to keep an eye on her. Someone to let us know if anything changes.” Mason looked up, uncomprehending, and Elidor carefully avoided eye contact, busying himself with rearranging the tubes connecting to Kat. “You need to sleep, and that’s a pretty big bed.” 

For a moment, Mason’s brow contracted further as he tried to parse out what Elidor meant, then comprehension dawned on him. He turned to the healer, who had gathered a handful of things and was heading out the door. 

Elidor gave him a piercing look. “Come find me when she wakes.” Then he was gone, leaving Mason and Kat alone. 

Mason stared back down at the bed. The idea of curling up around Kat, listening to her soft breathing and the steady, comforting beat of her heart sounded like paradise. He’d never actually slept with her, though there had been several occasions where he had been tempted to.

She wouldn’t mind; he was sure.

Plus, he was so tired he wasn’t sure he could make it back to the room he’d been given. 

Toeing off the slippers they had given him, he sat on the bed, shifting the covers out of the way. Gingerly, so as not to jostle Kat, Mason slid beneath the blankets, curling himself around her, careful, so careful not to touch. 

Sleep claimed him almost instantly.

* * *

I woke up in a strange bed. 

Well, not that strange. Pleasantly beige walls, no windows, comfortable, if impersonal furniture, I recognized the room as one at the Agency facility. For a moment, I amused myself with the idea this might be the same room they had me in after my time with Murphy. 

And the time Murphy’s thralls attacked me.

Maybe I should get a punch card. (Stay in our surgery suites five times, and the sixth one is free!)

I lay under a warm, if also beige, blanket, trying to hold as still as possible. There was a pain in my side that promised to flare into agony if I moved wrong, and I didn’t feel up to testing it. Tubes trailed from one of my arms to a machine next to me. I had no idea what it might be for, but my brain was a little too muzzy to care.

Staring at the ceiling, floating in what I had to assume was a haze of painkillers, I tried to recall the events that must have led up to my being here. Memories began to surface, most of them bleary, as though seen through a dirty window—a walk through the woods, trappers attacking, an explosion. Blood, so much blood. 

Panic hit me then.

Mason, where was Mason. 

I sat bolt upright, or I tried to. It was a mistake. Agony exploded in my side, and I cried out, curling into myself. Tears spilled over, not only from the sudden burst of pain but also the image of Mason splayed out against that log, covered in blood. Fear gripped me so tightly I could barely breathe. Had I been fast enough? Was he ok? 

Had I gotten him killed?

I tried to sit up again but met with resistance, not from my beleaguered, injured body, but from warm hands on my shoulders, holding me down gently. There was a familiar gruff voice grumbling at me to breathe, to hold still. 

It was the most beautiful thing I had ever heard.

I should have listened, but I couldn’t help myself. I tried to turn to face him, resisting the restraining hand on my arm, causing another sharp lance of pain. I didn’t care. Mason was here! He was alive! I could have wept for joy if I wasn’t already crying from pain. 

“Kat, What the hell.” 

He was sitting up behind me, hair rumpled from sleep. The tee-shirt he wore was a size too small and strained across his shoulders. His mouth twisted into a half irritated scowl as he tried to stop me from moving. There was no sign of his injuries, and it was only sleep making his eyes unfocused as he woke up the rest of the way.

He was so beautiful. 

I reached for him, nearly yanking out the needles in my arm and ignoring the restraining arm he put around me. I had to touch him. I had to be sure he was real and not an illusion. 

“Hold still, would you?” He reached to cup my face with one hand, the other still firmly holding my shoulder, “It’s ok, stop thrashing around.” His thumb brushed across my cheek, whipping away the tears still spilling from my eyes. His irritated expression softened as he took in my wide eyes and trembling lips.

“I thought,” my voice came out as a cracked whisper, my throat sore and dry, “I wasn’t sure you were-” I couldn’t finish the thought, my voice trailing into silence. I relaxed into him, closing my eyes to enjoy the feel of his hand against my face, the gentle stroking of his fingers against my shoulder. 

Leaning in, he rested his head against mine lightly, whispering, “I’m ok. We’re ok.”

“How?” 

He gave one of those dry chuckles of his, “You accidentally called Felix when you dropped your phone.” 

He sat up, and I stared up at him, torn between laughter and exasperation. “I guess I owe him an apology for being annoyed with his texting.”

Mason’s mouth quirked up in a smirk but fell almost as quickly. He ran his fingertips across my cheek, brushing my hair out of my face. “I thought- I thought we’d lost you.” 

I reached for him, remembering to use the arm not currently connected to anything this time. Mirroring his movement, I gently touched his cheek. He leaned into my hand, eyes closing. 

“Are you angry with me?” I could barely manage a whisper, but I knew he would hear me. 

He sighed, “I am angry.” He opened his eyes to stare hard at me, and I could see a glimmer of that anger shining in them. Then his face softened, and he continued, “But no, not with you. How can I be angry when I would have done the same thing?” 

“That would be rather hypocritical of you.” I tapped the tip of his nose in an attempt to lighten the mood, trying to ignore the way my heart quickened at his words. I kept my tone light as I continued, “Shish-kebabing probably wouldn’t have slowed _you_ down at least.” 

Mason leveled a look at me that had me snapping my mouth shut. (probably not the right time to make _that_ joke. oops.) His jaw tightened for a moment, and his lips paled as he pressed them together. He looked down and away before speaking again. “You think you’re so funny.”

“I’m fucking hilarious,” I quipped back to him, then winced when I realized what I had said. A muscle fluttered in his jaw, and I immediately felt ashamed for making light of the situation. I settled my hand against his arm, surprised to feel how tense he was. “I’m sorry, Mason.”

He nodded, still not looking at me. The seconds stretched, the silence becoming almost unbearable before he let out a sigh, the arm under my hand relaxing slightly. “I know the joking helps, but,” he finally looked at me, covering my hand with his, “you should care more about yourself.”

I raised an eyebrow at him, “Would you rather I dissolve into tears? ‘Cause that’s the other option. Besides,” I flipped my hand over to grab his, pulling it close to press a kiss to his knuckles, “that’s what I have you for.” 

That got me a bemused look and a slight twitch of a lip. 

Pulling his hand away, he turned to swing his legs off the bed. The sweatpants he was wearing hung low on his hips, and between those and the slightly too small tee-shirt, there was a line of tanned skin visible, along with just a hint of the trail of hair on his stomach. 

I’d been about to complain about his leaving, but my still slightly muzzy thoughts were entirely distracted by the view. He caught me getting an eyeful and smirked before pulling his shirt down. 

“Enjoying yourself?”

I blinked at him before returning his smirk, “They say eye candy is the best medicine; maybe you should lose the shirt.”

He chuckled, “I’ve never heard that, but maybe we can give it a try later.”

He bent to, I assumed, put on whatever shoes he had, and I frowned after him. “Where are you going?”

“Elidor told me to find him when you woke up. I’ll be back.” He turned to head out the door, then hesitated, turning to look back at me. He stood there for several seconds, wavering, before striding back to the bed. 

My heart nearly stopped when he leaned over and pressed a soft, sweet kiss to my temple. Surprise left me breathless, and I stared up at him. He straightened, smoothing another curl out of my face before he spoke. His words came out in a murmur, almost too quiet for me to hear.

“Kat, I-” He faltered, brow crinkling. “I’m glad you’re not dead.”

Briskly, he turned and strode out the door.

Closing my eyes, I let myself relax back into my pillow, warmth swelling up in my chest. It wasn't a sweeping declaration of undying love, or even, really, a confession of any kind. In all honesty, he would probably never actually say those three words.

He didn't have to.

A part of me knew. Knew with every little touch. Knew every time he flirted to distract me from my nightmares.

Knew every time he sat in silence, letting me ramble on.

Quietly, so, so quietly, for fear he might hear me, I whispered after him.

“I love you too.”


End file.
